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Cale rolled back his sleeves and strapped his pistol into the holster inside his vest. His next assignment, following two wonderful but woefully short weeks of lazing about, was to execute a heinous criminal. After countless mid- and even high-ranking agents had failed, the Organization had finally decided to send their best.
The White Star’s f*cking head would blow up tonight.
That was what his Operator, Jopis, had said to him over the call.
No failures. Memorize the portrait of the target that was drawn by the sole surviving scout, Agent Rock, and analyze the patterns of his recorded behaviour.
Then, do what you do the best.
With his eyes closed, Cale recalled the face on the portrait. Agent Rock couldn’t be sure of the eye or hair colour, so it was shaded in monotone, but what had been drawn was a pleasing, well-formed, and gentle-looking face that looked more like it belonged to a fairytale prince than to a mass-murderer.
Of course, that was what made that kind of face dangerous. Cale knew about deceiving appearances. He himself was an unassuming office worker who went to the gym regularly after work, if you didn’t catch the blood staining the corners of his rolled-up sleeves.
Prowling deep in the shadows, he began the hunt. His target was not hard to find. A face that was so distinctively good-looking was hard to hide. Cale observed the other man for a few more moments as his brow furrowed.
It was strange.
His target was relatively strong. Although he could easily tell this from his confident posture and muscle definition, he also didn’t detect anything else. Certainly not someone who could send so many of the Organization’s assassins to hell, even if some of them had been a bit weird.
He remained in the corner of the hall, still and focused on the target that he was trying to figure out. It really was a nice face. It was a shame Cale had to blow it up.
Well, if it was coming down to that anyway, Cale decided to step closer and confront the man. Just to make sure.
Someone should at least give that face another view. Record it for longer, since some frivolous god had spent so much time on it.
Cale slipped past the door right behind the target and jammed the door as it shut.
Now, then.
The man’s awareness was not bad. He was already a couple of steps into the washroom, and seemed to sense Cale’s intent to kill and the pistol that was now trained at his back.
A bit stiltedly, he turned around.
“..Huh?”
He froze in shock as he saw the gun, before his eyes flickered to Cale’s.
An angle that was straight and centered. From this angle, even in the harshly yellow bathroom lighting, his face exuded elegance as if captured in a timeless wedding photograph. Cale matched it to the face in his records.
“Hello, White Star,” Cale slowly cocked a grin. “You’re not running away again.”
As he said the name, Cale was recording the most minute changes in the opposing man’s expression.
The molten chocolate of his eyes stirred, from shock and confusion to an eventual steeled confidence.
It was a face that made every expression look as if out of a master’s painting.
The man raised his opened palms to Cale and started to speak in a forthcoming manner.
“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you must have the wrong person. I don’t recall seeing you before, but if I had, I assure you that my instinct would not be to run away. Well, unless you were also waving a gun at me previously out of the blue.”
The man punctuated his joke with a casual grin. Although Cale could tell that it was stretched with force, he also did not detect a lie in the other’s statements.
At this point, Cale hadn’t taken the safety off of his gun. He pressed a step forward, and another.
His target didn’t move away. He wasn’t looking at the gun, either. He held Cale’s gaze as the barrel rested against his shirt.
Cale could feel the rise and fall of his chest through the thin material as the man shuddered a breath at the contact.
He leaned in.
“It’s useless to pretend. We’ve seen your real face and had a portrait of you drawn.”
Cale stepped back and took out the copy of the illustration without looking away.
Although it was recorded, the details of the image in his mind were already being overwritten by the high quality visage currently in front of his eyes; a fairytale prince vibrantly brought to life.
He raised the drawing that he suddenly found was lacking and flipped it over to show it to his target.
The White Star. Cale had heard the stories despite trying not to pay attention to the chaos during his vacation. It was supposed to be his vacation, and he didn’t bring work home. Anyway, Cale was sure he was the type to admit his identity right away and brag of his name and deeds, and not be stepping closer and inspecting the picture so seriously.
Even the man’s serious and pensive gaze was charming. Cale was strictly watching the man in case he finally decided to attack.
But the man looked to him after a few moments and cleared his throat. He seemed to be deliberating how to say something, and then began to chuckle.
His eyes curved into crescent moons. Damn him, even his eye smile was cute.
Cale was about to snap at him, but the man wiped away his mirth and quickly spoke. Cale could still hear the remnants of it in his voice, though.
“Mm, hold on. You believe I’m the guy in this picture? I plead not guilty, your honour. You should look at it again, and then look back at me.”
He dramatically paused, while Cale looked unmoved, and then laid out his evidence in court: “Aren’t I more handsome?”
Standing a foot away, Cale could scrutinize the strong jaw and the sharp curve of his nose. In contrast, his cheeks still held some baby fat to soften the overall impression. Such elements of his face fit harmoniously together, although it was currently a bit scrunched together as he winked at Cale.
Cale inspected the portrait again, and eventually had to admit.
“...I guess that’s true.”
“Right? Although I do see some similarities, I’m much more handsome, aren’t I?”
“Well, I’ve seen worse.”
Actually, he was Cale’s type, but the Demon World would burn down and the Divine Realm too would collapse before he would admit that much out loud.
“Anyways, it’s a misunderstanding. I’m really not that person.”
After another beat, Cale lowered the barrel of his gun and turned to leave.
“Ah, wait! Where are you going?”
Cale stopped at the anxious voice and fixed an amused look at the man who seemed to have forgotten that Cale had been about to kill him a moment ago.
“Unless you want to hand over your head, I’m off to find my real target.”
The man’s long strides quickly closed their distance. He seemed determined again, with a set to his brows as he squared forward. Cale waited to see what he would do. Punch him, maybe? In the face? With his own astonishingly charming face that, upon closer inspection, Cale was really crazy for mistaking it for the White Star’s profile in the first place?
But the man was tugging his arm gently. Cale suddenly remembered he was holding his gun and tensed, the lambent bubble of his thoughts dispersing, but the man turned over the palm of his free hand and placed a card across his fingers.
“Call me when you’re done? Please let me take you out for dinner.”
..Well, Cale was not someone who would turn down a free dinner.
He looked down at the business card in his hand, because it was suddenly better than looking up at the man whose lips had curved into a wide smile. It was blinding. It reminded him of the sun, illuminating the warm tone of the man’s skin.
He pocketed the card and slipped out of the room unceremoniously.
He definitely did not see the way Alberu Crossman’s eyes lit up as he stored the card and gave him a curt nod before leaving.
Cale had a one-track mind as he made last minute changes to his plan. He was going to blow up the Real White Star’s f*cking head and still have enough time to get dressed and go for dinner.
With Cale’s strong burst of motivation, the White Star didn’t know what hit him and died pitifully. Cale did not have the time to spare for his villainous monologuing when he had a date to get to.
The Organization’s most efficient killer, codenamed Cale.
Living up to his renown, he dispatched one target to hell and captured the living heart of another.
The night passed eventfully like that.